


Cell Block Winchester

by kittenofdoomage



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Female Reader, Fighting, Gore, Lore - Freeform, Monster of the Week, OITNB - Freeform, Oral, Sex, Smut, Violence, Women's Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-02 00:03:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8643394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenofdoomage/pseuds/kittenofdoomage
Summary: Written for @ilostmyshoe-79’s 20k fic challenge So, this is my fic, inspired by my obsession with Orange Is The New Black.





	

 

It was probably the most humiliating thing you’d ever done for a job, and right up there with the scariest too. You had nothing to fight with; no gun, no knife, not even your own clothes. The bland khaki was uncomfortable and itchy, and you didn’t even want to think about the prison issue underwear they’d given you. Big ol’ granny panties, thin white cotton that rode up your ass crack without even asking permission first.

And you were trying not to recall the ol’ cough and squat they’d had you perform during processing.

Clutching your blankets and standard issue items, you followed the small group of women who’d come in at the same time as you, through the corridor, ignoring the stares and whispers from inmates who were already established in this hell hole. One by one, the guard, Officer Stratmore, pointed the new inmates to their assigned rooms. She was a short, stout lady, with a face like a bulldog chewing a wasp, and a bad brunette dye job, and there was a complete lack of any kind of humanity in her voice when she barked your last name and pointed you to a room with three Hispanic ladies and an older black lady inside.

‘Y/L/N, bunk six.’ 

You took a tentative step into the room, trying to keep your face neutral as you surveyed your surroundings, as Officer Bulldog stood behind you with her arms folded, looking less than impressed with your hesitation.

‘What’s wrong? Don’t like the decor?’

Glancing back, you tried not to narrow your eyes, offering her a polite smile. ‘Just fine, thanks.’ You walked over to the bunk, noting with relief it was the bottom one, and placed your things on the flimsy mattress. Officer Stratmore grunted, then walked away, shouting something a few seconds later.

The eyes of the other occupants were on you as you made the bed, and you swallowed, trying to ignore the less-flight-more-fight reaction in your gut. You’d only agreed to this for a couple of days, but already you were regretting the decision.

‘What’s your name?’ One of the Hispanic ladies asked, watching you with one hand on her hip. Sucking in a breath, you stood straight and turned around, remembering not to give your first name.

‘Y/L/N,’ you replied, keeping your tone even. The conversation sort of dropped as the other women looked at each other, and you felt your throat constrict with discomfort. Were you supposed to follow it up by asking hers, or make some small talk about the weather? God, this was fucking confusing.

The older black lady chuckled then, waving off the three younger girls and climbing from her bottom bunk, picking up a sealed toothbrush from the table. ‘Ignore them. They’re just as new and frightened as you. It’s Latina spirit keeping them upright.’ One of the girls huffed, but didn’t say anything. ‘I’m Smith.’ She offered the toothbrush and you took it, feeling yourself relax a little and giving her a small smile.

‘Thanks.’ You ducked your head, running your fingers along the neck of the toothbrush. ‘I guess I wasn’t sure what to expect.’

‘First time inside?’ Smith asked, her hair bouncing as she spoke, and you nodded. ‘You’ll get the hang, sweetheart. How long you got?’

‘I don’t know,’ you answered honestly.’Case hasn’t been finished yet.’

Smith nodded, raising her chin as if she were doubting your words. But she didn’t say anything further, returning to her bunk. The speaker in the corridor crackled, and an announcement started, making you look up with an eyebrow raised.  _ ‘New inmate orientation is in thirty minutes in the recreation room. This is compulsory.’ _

‘I thought that wasn’t until tomorrow morning?’ You mumbled, not really directing your words to anyone.

One of the other girls shrugged. ‘It’s Friday. The CO’s don’t like to hang around for the weekend.’ Her accent was heavy, but she smiled as she spoke. ‘It’s my first time inside too. I got here last week.’ She moved forward, using one hand to brush her long black hair back over her shoulder, and you watched warily as she offered her free hand to you. Tentatively, you took it, shaking gently; there was no point making a display of strength here. You were here for a case and would be gone before you could make friends. ‘I’m Ramirez. This is Flores,’ she gestured to the girl who’d asked your name, who jerked her head up in recognition, ‘and this is Ortiz.’ The third girl, who was shorter than the other two, nodded her head. You responded in kind, and Ramirez dropped your hand. ‘What are you in for?’

You hesitated, unsure if it was proper etiquette to answer such a question. Then you allowed your inner you to hit the question repeatedly, because who the fuck cares about etiquette in prison. ‘Killed a guy.’ There was a slight widening to Ramirez’s eyes, and something inside you welled with pride. It was sick, and so fucked up, because who feels pride at impressing another criminal.

It wasn’t exactly a lie. Except the guy you “killed” had been dead and decayed and was a meatsuit for a particularly foul demon that was responsible for the deaths of countless innocent people. Mostly, he was an excuse to get yourself locked up to deal with the problems Deacon had called Dean about.

‘You’d better get runnin’, girl,’ Smith commented, her voice muffled from where she sat in her bunk. ‘Don’t want to be late for orientation. You might piss Stratmore off.’

‘That’s the one who’s got a mouth like someone fed her salt, right?’ Ortiz asked, and Ramirez giggled. You allowed yourself a small smile - maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

*****

Orientation was confusing and annoying, mostly covering the details of weapons that could be made and used, and what would send you to the segregation unit. None of the guards had any interesting information about the recent deaths inside the prison, and when you tried to ask more questions, you got told to shut up.

Dinner was an interesting affair, and the food was worse than the worst diner you’d ever let Dean pick. Beef wellington looked more like congealed mud, and you ended up pushing the tray away, opting to starve rather than eat it. The table you sat at was mostly old ladies, who’d seemed the kinder option, rather than the loud and abrasive younger women who rubbed you the wrong way before they’d even spoken to you.

‘Here, sweetheart.’ One of the ladies pushed a jello pot over to you. ‘You need to eat something in here. I can’t touch that stuff - nothing but sugar. But you look like you got the stomach for it.’

You smiled, taking the jello pot and holding it for a second. ‘Thank you. That’s very kind of you -’ You stopped, realising you didn’t know her name.

‘Johnson.’ The lady provided, smiling back at you. ‘I know you’ve probably heard some horror stories about this place. But it’s not all bad. Not if you keep your head down and do your time in peace.’

The lady next to you nodded, swallowing her mouthful before speaking. ‘Johnson’s right. I’ve been here ten years. No one even notice me yet.’ She looked at you appraisingly. ‘You look like a nice young girl, honey. What did you do to land yourself in here?’

You shrugged, looking down at the jello pot. ‘Nothing he didn’t deserve.’

‘Ah, one of those.’ Johnson and the other ladies at the table nodded, obviously assuming you were fighting back against a man who’d attacked you. ‘We’ve seen plenty of women in here that fought back and got locked up ‘cause of it. You got a good lawyer?’

_ Not gonna need one when I bust out and run _ , you thought, before nodding at them. ‘Best I could afford.’

‘Good. Hopefully they can get you a light sentence,’ the lady next to you smiled and nudged your arm.

The rest of the meal was finished with the ladies talking about their days and hobbies, and offering you tips on how to make your commissary last longer, and make the meals taste better. It was clear they were all long timers, and you were grateful, even though you probably wouldn’t need the advice for very long. When the bell rang to signal that it was time to leave the cafeteria, you stood up and followed everyone else, dumping your tray into the bin.

‘Inmate Y/L/N.’ You turned at the sound of Officer Stratmore’s voice, frowning at her. ‘Warden’s office. Now.’ A lump formed in your throat and you nodded, turning away from the flow of inmates back to the dormitories, and followed Officer Stratmore down a long corridor. The walls were grey here, instead of beige, and a fleeting thought ran through your head to let Crowley know that there was a worse looking place than the asylum he set up camp in. At least that building had character.

Officer Stratmore opened the door to the warden’s office and you stepped inside, recognising the warden as Deacon Kaylor, the officer Sam and Dean had helped out over a decade ago. He raised a hand, gesturing to Stratmore to leave, and she did, closing the door behind her.

It was then you noticed the other person in the room.

‘Dean?’ You blinked, your mouth falling open. ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’

Dean laughed, his thumbs hooked in the belt of the officer’s uniform he was wearing, as Deacon grinned at the both of you, pointing to the two chairs at the front of his desk. ‘Sit down, Y/N, we gotta talk. You too, Dean.’

‘Seriously, what are you doing here?’ You smacked Dean’s arm as he sat down, and Deacon cleared his throat noisily.

‘We thought it best to have extra backup.’ Deacon sighed. ‘This is getting bad, guys. I had another fatality reported this morning from C block. There’s no connection between the victims. And the inmates won’t tell us anything.’

Dean leaned forward. ‘What have you got so far?’

‘Four women. Different ages, ethnicity, crimes - all found face down in a puddle of their own blood. No noise, nothing heard in the open dormitories. No screams. And the only mark -’ Deacon reached over, picking up a pile of photographs and dumping them in front of the both of you. ‘This circular sort of burn below the left collarbone. About the size of the bottom of a coffee mug.’

You picked up the top photo, inspecting the wound. ‘Nothing I’ve ever seen before.’

‘Me either.’ Dean admitted. ‘You said on the phone that the victims were all drained of blood, except what was underneath them?’

Deacon nodded. ‘No blood found anywhere else. But no bitemarks. So not vampires, right?’ You nodded in affirmation. ‘I suppose that’s some comfort,’ he commented, leaning back in his chair.

‘No environmental connections, no full moon…’ You thumbed through the photos, glancing up at Dean. ‘The guards won’t talk to me, obviously. Think you could get some information?’ Dean nodded, chewing the inside of his cheek as he looked at the photos. ‘What about Sam?’

‘Sam’s hitting the books,’ Dean replied, looking up at you. ‘He’s on your visitation list. He’ll be by to see you tomorrow morning, and he’s posing as your lawyer.’

You nodded, feeling your cheeks flame. ‘You’re working shifts?’

‘I’m here as long as I can get away with it.’ Dean’s eyes flickered to Deacon. ‘You’re covering that end of things, right?’

The warden smiled. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll cover it. Getaway is all covered too - should be easier than last time. The security is a little more relaxed here than it was at Green River.’ He stood up, his fingers splayed across a case file on his desk. ‘Just find whatever is killing these women. I’ll be calling you to my office after lunch tomorrow, Y/N. And be careful. Some of these women...they might seem friendly but they’re criminals.’

You grinned as you stood up, looking over at Dean. ‘Don’t worry, I can handle myself.’

*****

The corridor was empty as Dean slipped out of Deacon’s office with you, his hand on your arm, just above your elbow. His grip was a little tighter than it needed to be and you couldn’t help the lustful whimper that escaped you.

‘Got a problem there, Y/L/N?’ He muttered, the sultry tone he used headed straight to your core and you wondered how prison issue cotton would hold up to the Winchester charm. ‘How’d a nice girl like you end up in this place?’

You bit your lip, giving him a sidelong glance as you recalled his special method of bribery to get you to agree to the case. ‘Blame it on my wild heart,’ you retorted, only to feel his hand tighten as he pulled you around, spinning you so your back was to the wall. It was cold and hard against your spine, and Dean wasted no seconds pressing up against you, quickly looking either way down the corridor before seizing your mouth in a fierce kiss.

Too soon, his lips left you bereft and aroused, panting heavily for him as his green eyes gazed into yours. ‘Dean, we could get into serious trouble here.’ 

‘What, you mean in the couple of days we’re pretending to be an inmate and a guard? It’s not like we’re stopping for an extended stay, Y/N.’ 

You sighed, desperately pushing down the need to grind into him, to hook your hands around his hips and grab his ass so the hardness of him hit the right spot. Dean was almost growling under his breath, and you’d seen that look a thousand times. ‘Look, I broke the law and landed myself in here. Why’d you even convince Deacon to get you the job? Don’t you trust me?’ 

‘I trust you plenty.’ He smiled, using his thumb to brush your hair away from your eyes. ‘But I’ve seen Orange Is The New Black, and if you think you’re getting any action without me witnessing, you got another thing coming.’ 

The grin that pulled his lips upwards was contagious. ‘You’re sick, Dean Winchester.’ 

‘That’s Officer Winchester to you, sweetheart.’ Footsteps made you spring apart like electricity had fired up your veins, and Officer Stratmore appeared at the end of the corridor as Dean grabbed your arm again. ‘Move it, inmate.’

You glared at him, before turning and allowing him to march you down past the other officer, who watched with beady eyes, her eyebrows dipping to show off all the wrinkles on her forehead. Instantly, you disliked her for interrupting your moment with your boyfriend, but she’d be gone later, and Dean would probably have scoped out the best broom closet by then….

*****

There wasn’t a more uncomfortable bed in the world; you were certain of it.

For two hours now, you’d tossed and turned, and scratched and grunted. The other girls in the room were asleep, and you’d quickly realised that Ortiz was the source of the guttural snoring that may have possibly been worse than Sam’s. Except Sam was usually two doors down, and Ortiz was directly above you, her slight movements making the entire bunk shake.

With a sigh, you rolled onto your side, wincing as a spring poked into your ribs. You missed the bed you shared with Dean at the bunker, the warm, thick covers and his cold feet entwined with yours, stealing your body heat.

The scream that split the air made everyone in your shared room bolt upright, and instantly, lights went on across the complex. Guards rushed down the corridors, and you climbed from the bunk, following the other women into the hall, everyone crowding towards the open dorm at the end.

‘She’s dead!’ Someone screamed, and women clutched at each other. You pushed forward through the throng, ignored Smith’s narrowed eyes on you as you tried to see what was going on. The guards were blocking the view of the body that was sprawled on a bed in the first bunk in the dorm, but the victim’s bunkmate was in view, sobbing and screaming against a guard. She was one of the Latina women, and you recognised her from the cafeteria.

Her screams grew louder, became a little more distinctive and in English as the guards tried to haul her from the room. Some of them started to urge the other inmates back to their rooms, and you spotted Dean at the other end of the dorm.

‘It’s El Trauco. Chilote!’ The woman screamed, clutching the guard who held her upright, his face a picture of confusion and fear as she continued to rant. ‘ Monstruos están aquí!’ You stared at the woman, seeing her eyes wild and full of terror. ‘Monsters are here!’

‘They’ll haul her ass to psyche,’ someone spoke beside you, making you jump. You saw Ramirez at your side, her arms folded over her chest as she watched the scene in front of you. ‘She won’t come back. This whole thing is a conspiracy.’

You nodded, offering a slight smile, before turning away. Almost immediately, your eyes locked with Smith’s, who held your gaze for a second, before turning away back to the room. Watching her go, you made a note to ask Sam to look into her background.

Morning came without sleep, and as the little clock on Smith’s metal cabinet turned five am, you got out of bed and grabbed your shower stuff, hoping to miss the crowds. You hadn’t quite processed everything from the night before, but at least you had something for Sam to look into. It was a shame you couldn’t speak to the girl, as they’d taken her to psyche, just like Ramirez said they would. Maybe Dean could get over there and speak to her.

The bathroom was mostly empty, with three other woman showering and showing no concern for their nudity in public. You swallowed, quickly relieving yourself and climbing into the furthest shower, careful to hide your modesty, making a quick job of cleaning yourself before leaving the cubicle to another woman. As you were brushing your teeth, you felt a presence come up behind you, and you turned, clutching your towel to your chest as you came face to face with a large, scary looking lady. She had short cropped hair and a plethora of vulgar tattoos up and down her arms.

‘Y/L/N, right?’

You blinked, not sure how to answer. ‘Y-yes?’

‘I saw you in the cafeteria yesterday. Thought I’d introduce myself.’ The woman smiled, and you noticed she had a tooth missing to the side. ‘I’m Karrson. This is your first time in, right?’

‘Yes.’

Karrson laughed lightly, her fingers reaching out to brush your shoulder and you tried not to shy away. You’d faced some big threats in the past, but this woman had more than a few pounds on you, and you were unarmed. ‘What’d you do? I mean, word’s going round you’re a murderer, but you don’t look like you could pick a ruck with a paper bag, sweetheart.’

Sucking it up, you shook your head. ‘It was self-defense. He..he..’

‘You killed a man? How’d you do it? Knife? Gun? Bare hands?’ Karrson grinned, almost like she was eager for the answer. 

‘Why do you want to know?’ You replied, suspicion flooding your tone, and the woman held her hands up.

‘I’m just sizin’ up the competition. You’re a piece of ass, Y/L/N.’ 

You shook your head, turning away from her. ‘Please, leave me alone.’ 

‘Come on, honey,’ she cooed, obviously unwilling to give up. ‘We all need back up in here. How long you got on your sentence?’ 

Your temper flared, and you scowled, not looking at her as you answered. ‘None of your business, but if you don’t back off, I’ll be adding to it.’ 

Karrson chuckled, keeping herself in your personal space, and you bristled, not wanting to start a fight, but wanting to do  _ anything  _ to keep her away. ‘Oooo, feisty. I like ‘em hot, baby.’ She jumped as you slammed your hands onto the counter, and the confidence on her expression melted away and you turned, mustering every ounce of scary hunter that you had.

‘Look, I’m flattered, but I’m here to do my time and get it done. Not to flirt, not to fuck, certainly not to get “back up”.’ Footsteps echoed into the bathroom, and Karrson looked towards the door as Dean walked in, his hand going to his nightstick as he watched you force the woman backwards. She held up her hands, smiling nervously.

‘Sorry for bothering you, sweetheart. I’ll just…’

‘Problem, ladies?’ Dean asked, and you glanced over at him, shaking your head. Karrson bolted, and you heaved a sigh of relief. ‘Inmate Y/L/N. Warden’s office. Ten minutes.’ You frowned, tilting your head to the side as he flashed you a cheeky smile and left the bathroom.

You dressed quickly, practically throwing your stuff onto your bunk before heading towards Deacon’s office. Most of the other women were heading to breakfast, or still asleep, and you saw Smith with her group of friends, walking down to the cafeteria. She stared at you for a split second, before moving on, and you stopped, frowning at her behaviour.

Arms grabbed you from behind, one hand sliding over your mouth, and you kicked out, failing to stop your attacker as they dragged you into a broom closet, locking the door and turning the light on. You spun, ready to fight, only to have your fists caught by Dean.

‘What the hell, Dean!’

‘I missed you,’ he grinned, pulling you close, his mouth descending onto yours without a second for you to process. ‘God, I hate being apart from you.’

‘Me too,’ you gasped, fingers curling in the shirt of his uniform. He smelt clean and fresh, a welcomed break from the stale despair that the prison seemed to reek of. ‘Dean, I fucking hate it here.’

His fingers slipped underneath the baggy khaki top, tugging at the elastic waistband of your pants, his breath hot against your lips. ‘Only a couple more days, sweetheart. You heard what that woman was screaming right? Something to go on.’

You nodded, seeking out more kisses from his plump lips, sliding your tongue against his as he moaned deeply. ‘You’d called Sam, right?’

‘He’s on it. Less shop talk; need to be inside you, baby.’ His hands pushed at your pants, rushing to have you free of them; thankfully he skipped any insults about the horrible underpants you had to wear. You pulled at the belt of his pants, letting them fall to the floor without preamble, the utility pouches thudding as they hit the tiled concrete. It was cold, and dingy, almost too dark to see even with the dim light, but it wasn’t the worst place Dean had taken you.

One large hand gripped the underneath of your thigh as you pulled one leg free, allowing him to hoist it up, his cock gliding through your already slick folds. Dean snarled at the feeling, the tip of his dick finding your entrance easily, and you tried to keep your cry quiet as he slid home with one sharp thrust. The angle was difficult but you couldn’t care less as long as you could feel him.

‘Fuck this,’ he groaned, using his other hand to pull your other leg up, pinning you between his significantly larger frame and the breezeblock wall, his cock finding the deeper spots inside you as he started to rock into you harder. There was nothing to do but hold on to his shoulders, letting him fuck you as hard as he pleased. His mouth nipped at your neck, careful not to leave marks as he railed you, and you arched your back from the wall, feeling your hair catch in the nooks and cracks.

‘D-don’t stop...so close...so...fuck…’ You couldn’t stop the whine that left your lips, and Dean grunted as you came hard, your walls clamping down on his cock as he kept moving, kept pushing you higher until your mind went completely blank of everything except the feel of him against you.

When you floated back down, he kissed you, shouting his release into your swollen lips as his hips stuttered, pumping thick ropes of come into your shuddering body. You let him finish, not making any move to stop him as his thrusts became slower, stopping altogether. His lips left yours, and his head dropped to your shoulder, his pants hot against the hollow of your throat.

‘When we get done with this hunt, you’re not leaving the bed. Ever. And thongs from now on.’

You giggled, nodding as your hands threaded around his neck, his grip on your legs failing. Your feet hit the floor, and he pulled away, frowning at the mess he’d made. Looking around, he spotted a roll of blue towel, grabbing it and tearing off a handful.

‘Sam’s gonna be here in two hours,’ he muttered, handing you some towel to clean up with. ‘He’s researching the El Trauco and Chilote. Hopefully we’ll have a way to kill it, then we can get back to the bunker and I can spend the next few days eating you out until you scream.’

‘You’re such a romantic, Dean Winchester,’ you commented, pulling your pants up as Dean tucked himself away, buckling his pants. He flashed you a grin, before pulling you in for another kiss. ‘You go first. If the coast is clear, I’ll come out.’ You paused, wishing briefly that you’d never agreed to this. ‘I love you.’

He smiled, cupping your cheek, his eyes showing nothing but honesty, although he never repeated the words back to you.

‘Not here,’ he whispered. ‘When we’re home, I’ll show you.’

*****

‘It’s a type of vampire,’ Sam said quietly, folding his hands together. ‘They wouldn’t let me bring files in, but lucky for us, I got a good memory.’ He smiled, reaching over to take your hand. ‘You doing okay in here?’

‘One night and I’m not dead,’ you replied, sighing heavily. ‘I feel safer with Dean here, but he can’t stick around twenty four seven. They’d notice.’ You looked around, seeing women with their families, and you felt horrible. Some of these ladies had been inside for years; you were only going to have to deal with this a couple of days. ‘So, how do we find it?’

‘Camera flare on the eyes seems to be a good one. They don’t react to dead man’s blood. From what I found, and I had to do some digging, they’re a Spanish breed. Something that was first found when the Spanish first came to America. They need to feed often, and they usually leave a mark similar to the one found on the bodies. That’s how they suck the blood.’

You frowned. ‘What about the blood under the bodies?’

Sam nodded. ‘When they feed, it ruptures the oesophagus. Nothing concrete as to why. The victims choke on their own blood before they die of exsanguination. Most likely why there’s no screaming or struggling.’

‘Makes sense, I guess.’

‘You’ve gotta look for the monster. Most likely, I’m thinking it’s gonna be someone new, who came in during the last month, before the killings started. Maybe they tried to hold off, but being locked up…’

‘Or they’re here because it’s the perfect feeding ground. That other inmate got carted off to psyche when she screamed about it.’ You looked down at your hands, hating how dirty your nails were getting. ‘I’ll ask Dean to interview her, see if she saw anyone.’

Sam smiled, rubbing your hand gently, and you looked up at him. ‘Keep your chin up. We can find out who this is. Look for telltale signs - if you can get inside where they keep the cameras, you might see something.’

‘What about killing it?’

‘Decapitation, same as a regular vampire. They’re stronger though - it’s gonna take you and Dean.’ He pulled back as the guard called for visits to end. ‘As soon as you’re gonna make a move, I’ll be waiting in the car, okay?’ He kept his voice low. ‘You won’t have to do this for too long.’

You gave him a tight smile, standing as he cleared his throat and straightened his tie. ‘I’ll get Dean to touch base.’ Sam ducked his head, before squeezing your shoulder in reassurance and walking past you. Once all the visitors were out, the inmates were moved back to the dorms and you jumped as Ramirez appeared beside you.

‘That tall glass is your lawyer?’ She whistled, looking back at the visitors area as you flushed red. ‘Damn, girl. You gotta give me his number. He can try get me off any day.’

*****

The day went on, and Dean returned to let you know that the witness in psyche hadn’t seen anything useful: she only knew the mark from old stories her mother had told her, and you found yourself disappointed at the lack of information. He’d quickly left, assuring you he would check the cameras for eye flare. Returning to your room, you found yourself alone with Smith, who sat up as you came in.

‘I know what you are,’ she said, looking towards the door a little nervously.

You froze, turning your eyes to her slowly. ‘What?’

Smith stood, and you fell into a fighting stance, eyes darting around for a weapon. ‘I know what you are. You’re a hunter, right?’ Your body relaxed slightly as she smiled. ‘I know hunters, girl. Never saw a demon myself, but I’ve heard the stories.’

‘You know hunters?’

‘Knew,’ Smith replied, sadly. ‘She was a badass woman, my auntie. Got taken out by a werewolf, oh, twenty years past? My momma never forgave her for choosing that life. Always kept me away, but...you know things. You hear things.’ She watched you for a few seconds. ‘The man you killed…’

‘Demon.’

‘Right.’ She huffed, a smile on her face. ‘What you hunting in here?’

You bristled a little. ‘Who said I was hunting?’

Smith laughed loudly. ‘Please, girl. I’ve seen you and that guard. He’s not a normal guy. Moves like a cat, stalking prey. He’s got it bad for you, and you for him. I know you’re hunting something - what’s killing those girls?’

‘A Chilote,’ you muttered, shrugging. ‘Some kind of Spanish vampire. Never heard of it, but I gotta take it out.’

‘Do you know who it is? I mean, if it’s a Spanish breed, stands to reason it’s one of the Latinas, right?’

You shook your head. ‘Could be anyone. I don’t wanna make assumptions. I can’t. It’s too risky.’ A sigh left your lips as you sat down on your bunk. ‘I gotta find it. I gotta kill it.’

‘How?’ The other woman sounded genuinely curious, and you pulled a face as you told her. Her face screwed up in disgust. ‘That doesn’t sound easy.’

‘It’s not my  _ favourite _ method of killing something, but it’s a damn sight easier than trying to find silver in a place like this.’ There was noise in the corridor, and you panicked a little. ‘You’re not gonna -’

‘Tell anyone?’ Smith laughed. ‘And risk a visit to psyche? No thank you. Just tell me if you need any help. Like I said, my auntie was a badass lady.’ She smiled. ‘I’d be honoured to do some good in this shit hole.’

‘Thanks.’ A grateful smiled graced your lips, just as the three Latina women walked in, followed by Officer Stratmore, who scowled at you. Ramirez frowned between you and Smith, before climbing onto her bunk.

*****

You stuck to yourself for the rest of the day, your mood souring when Dean shook his head at you when you approached him. Deacon was inspecting bunks with the other officers, and you couldn’t show any affiliation with the other hunter until it was done.

‘We’ve got contraband in here.’ Officer Stratmore was going through your meagre belongings, and your mouth fell open as she picked up a toothbrush with a razor blade melted into it. Almost immediately, Deacon’s eyes flew to you, and you shook your head.

‘That’s not mine!’ You claimed, as two other officers stepped in.

‘That’s two nights in segregation,’ Stratmore announced smugly, and you looked to Deacon, eyes wide and panic setting in. The two officers cuffed you, just as Dean stepped forward, but the warden held out his hand. ‘Standard procedure for weapons in here, Y/L/N. You gotta learn the rules.’

You shook your head wildly, struggling, seeing Dean’s fight to keep himself calm as the two officers manhandled you from the room. Deacon held up a hand. ‘Wait.’ He approached you, as Stratmore watched with narrowed beady eyes. ‘Are you sure it’s not yours?’

‘I’m  _ positive _ ,’ you replied, your teeth gritted together. ‘I did not make that.’

‘She bought it then.’ Stratmore insisted. ‘Sir, it’s procedure -’

‘I understand that,’ Deacon snapped, turning his head sharply to the officer. ‘Now, I know you’re new here, Stratmore -’ Your head snapped up at the revelation, your eyes locking with Dean’s ‘- but I gotta ascertain we’re getting the right inmate here.’ He looked at the officers holding you. ‘Take her to seg for the time being. I’m going to investigate this, and as soon as I have proof, she can come back.’

You shook your head, putting up a fight again, but letting the officers drag you away. Stratmore scowled at your retreating form, as Dean watched, powerless to do anything.

‘Keep searching,’ Deacon ordered.

*****

The segregation unit was more horrific than the main prison. It was cold, and the bed was a thin mattress on top of a worse frame than you’d had in the bunks. The door was solid steel, with a shutter that remained shut, and after an hour, you were considering joining the other inmates who were screaming and banging at their doors.

Dinner was served on a battered plastic tray, and you picked at it, having no luck at getting any answers from the officer that delivered it. Minutes turned into hours, and you wondered what was going on outside, back on the block. Were Dean and Deacon trying to prove your innocence?

The lock to the cell door chinged, and you stood up straight, relieved for a second, until Officer Stratmore stepped into view. She closed the door behind her, before looking up at you with a grin.

‘I knew you were going to be trouble, the minute I sniffed you.’ Her eyes flashed, and you stepped back, finding the wall behind you. ‘Damn hunters. I thought this would be safe hunting ground, but no escaping you little fuckers, is there?’

‘You’re the Chilote,’ you whispered. ‘I thought...I thought…’

‘You thought it was an inmate?’ Stratmore laughed loudly, holding out her hands. ‘I’m an eighth Spanish on my mother’s side. We had to breed, and what better than blending in with all these tasty Americans.’ She tapped her foot on the floor. ‘Now, prison chow isn’t as good as the people outside, but it draws less attention. Unless the warden has a hunter friend.’ She shrugged. ‘My mistake. But not for long.’

‘I’m not alone,’ you burst out, shaking, looking for a weapon. ‘My friends -’

‘What, the warden and the other guard? Oh, no problem there, dear, don’t you worry. Deacon is as good as dead. And the guard - well, he showed himself up by asking too many questions.’ She was close now, almost close enough to touch and you shuddered at the closeness. ‘I just thought it best to do you first. I mean, seg is  _ awful _ . And you’re new. No one would be surprised if you hung yourself.’

‘Hung myself?’

‘I’m not going to eat you. I need this place.’ Stratmore reached out one finger, the nail growing into a claw as she ran it down your face. ‘Besides, I’m not hungry right now.’ The claw nicked your skin, and a drop of blood ran onto her finger. You felt hopeless, defenseless and defeated. ‘I’ll make it quick, Y/L/N.’

Tears welled in the corners of your eyes, making you feel weaker, and Stratmore laughed. ‘Dean is going to kill you, bitch,’ you spat, forcing your gaze to meet hers, mustering all the courage and bravado you could. The tray that had your lunch on caught your eye, just as Stratmore’s hands grasped your head, her grip tight and painful.

‘He can try.’ Her wrists started to twist, but you moved sharply, slamming your forehead into her nose. It hurt like hell, like someone was dropping a brick on your forehead and you knew you might have broken something. Stratmore screamed in rage, releasing her grip on you, and you dropped to the floor, scrambling for the tray, just as someone started to pound on the door.

‘Dean!’ You screamed, clutching the tray as Stratmore grabbed your ankle and dragged you backwards. ‘Dean, help!’

Keys jangled in the lock, and the Chilote roared, pulling you closer as you smashed the tray against the edge of the toilet, the brittle plastic snapping into two pieces. ‘I’m going to kill you, filthy slut!’ Stratmore was enraged, blood running down her face from the damage you’d done with your forehead. Razor sharp pin-like teeth dropped from her gums and she snarled, spittle covering your face as she hauled you close.

The door flew wide as Dean got it open, and you struggled, falling backwards as Dean launched himself at Stratmore, knocking her back onto the bed.

‘Pin her!’ You screamed, and Dean obeyed, fighting to hold the monster down as you jumped onto her chest, pinning her shoulders down. She snapped and snarled, grazing your thigh with her sharp teeth and you screamed in pain and anger, trying to ignore the blood.

She wailed then, changing her tactic. ‘Help! Help me!’

You didn’t wait any longer, bringing down one half of the now sharpened and cracked edge of the tray, pushing it against her throat and hearing the satisfying crunch of flesh and bone breaking apart, her screams ending. As it pushed through, it got stuck and you dropped your full bodyweight on it. The monster’s head popped off like a disgusting zit, rolling a couple of inches before stopping on the mattress, the last few twitches ending in a pool of blood.

Pants filled the room as the alarms started to ring, and you got to your feet, leaning heavily on your injured leg as Dean rushed to help you, both of you looking towards the door as Deacon appeared, out of breath.

‘They sounded the alarm. You two gotta go.’

‘I thought this wasn’t gonna be like the last time?’ Dean teased, and Deacon grinned.

‘I owe you big time, Winchester. Now, get yourself and your girl out of here.’

Neither of you stopped to argue, and Deacon led you down a back corridor to a supply entrance, where Sam was waiting with Baby, beyond the border of the prison. Without looking back, Dean helped you into the backseat, before climbing in next to his brother, looking over to check on you.

Your fingers clutched your leg, trying to staunch the bleeding, although it wasn’t as bad as you first thought.

‘Can we never do that again?’

*****

Three days later, and your leg was starting to heal. You relaxed on your comfortable bed in the bunker, enjoying the freedom of Netflix and the internet, until Dean waltzed into the room, sitting down next to you. You smiled, welcoming the hug that he offered, nuzzling into his side.

‘How are you feeling?’

‘I am  _ never _ going to complain about living underground, or diner food, or wearing thongs again.’ You joked, looking up at him, beckoning him into a kiss. He ducked his head, all too willing to oblige, his fingers tilting your chin higher as he swiped his tongue against yours.

‘I meant what I said,’ he muttered, pulling back. ‘Only thongs. I never want to see a pair of granny panties on you again. I like your ass framed for my viewing pleasure.’ He paused, frowning. ‘Although, I’m disappointed in the lack of girl on girl. Aside from you taking down the beast of the week in spectacular fashion, but that’s not really spank bank material, you know?’

You laughed, slapping his shoulder as he snuggled down the bed to be closer to you. ‘You’re such a pervert, Dean Winchester.’

‘You love it.’ He retorted, kissing the top of your head as you settled into his side.

‘I love you,’ you whispered, lacing your fingers with his and kissing his knuckles as he chuckled softly.

‘I think I promised you something,’ Dean muttered, and you raised an eyebrow, watching him closely. ‘Gonna show you. How much I hate you being in danger like that. How much I hate seeing you get hurt. Plus, I think I had a bribe that I had to pay out on.’

You grinned, climbing to your knees, ignoring the twinge from your wound. ‘You did. It’s coming back to me.’

Dean returned the smile, watching as you straddling his hips, his cock already thick and hard, outlined against the denim of his pants. ‘So, how about you take off the lounge pants, as sexy as they are, peel off that little black thong I know you’re wearing, and get your thighs wrapped around my face?’

‘Someone’s demanding.’

‘Someone is demanding to show his woman how much he loves her.’

A hot flush covered your skin as you acquiesced to his request, shimmying out of your clothes as Dean did the same, his hands greedy as you revealed your flesh to him. He quickly had you up the bed, his touch gentle as he pulled you close, spreading your thighs, eyes resting on your wound before bestowing a soft kiss to it.

‘Hate seeing you hurt,’ he whispered, not giving you time to reply before his lips were ghosting over your pussy, tongue flicking out to spread your swollen labia, making you mewl and fall forward, hands clutching the headboard. ‘God, I missed your sweet tasting pussy, sweetheart.’

‘Shut up,’ you groaned, cheeks heating up at his filthy words. ‘God, Dean, don’t ever stop -’

‘Wasn’t planning on it,’ Dean grinned, his words cutting off as he pushed his tongue along your slick flesh, penetrating you with ease, his movements encouraged by your whimpers and moans. Your fingers scraped against the wooden headboard as he kept going, one finger teasing at your clit as he feasted on your cunt. 

You couldn’t stop your hips from rolling with him as he tongue fucked your pussy, going deeper than any man reasonable should - but then, no reasonable man had the oral fixation that Dean Winchester had. Within seconds, the combined pleasure of his tongue in your cunt and his finger applying just the right amount of pressure to your clit, had you coming hard, flooding his mouth with your taste. He never stopped, eagerly lapping up everything you had to give him, drawing out every last ounce of your orgasm before finally releasing his hold on your thighs.

‘Good enough?’

‘Are you really asking me that?’ The question was disrupted by panting as you came down from your high, a squeak leaving you as Dean eased you down his body. ‘Fuck me, Dean. Make me scream like I couldn’t in that stupid broom closet.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ he winked, his hands guiding your hips to his, the tip of his length just teasing at your hole, and you felt your body clench in response. ‘You want to take the wheel here?’ You nodded, moving back further, letting him push inside inch by fucking perfect inch. There was one sensation that got better every time, along with his tongue, and that was the feeling of his thick cock spreading you open, stretching you with just enough burn to make it feel like heaven.

Dean sighed in pleasure when your body was flush against his, his cock nestled deep inside your body, and you watched his eyes flutter shut for a second, before moving against him, gyrating your hips, allowing him to fall free almost all the way, before dropping your body back onto his.

‘You’re so fucking perfect, princess,’ he groaned, fingers digging into your hips, still mindful of your wound. You’d completely forgotten about it, not caring as long as Dean was buried inside you. It felt like home when he was there, right at that spot that made you see stars and never want to leave, and you practically purred as you kept riding him, enjoying every single moan and grunt he gave.

‘Dean, I’m close -’ You whispered, and he took the hint, bucking his hips off the bed and driving into you, taking over the motion as you let your body respond, your second climax hitting hot on the heels of the first, your body quivering around him. Dean didn’t stop as he rolled you underneath him, careful not to aggravate your injury. ‘Don’t stop,’ you whined, placing one hand on his chest. ‘Please, don’t stop.’

He leaned down, kissing you once on the lips, before trailing soft kisses along your jaw to your ear. The rhythm of his thrusts didn’t stop as his mouth pressed against the spot underneath your ear. ‘Never.’ The whisper made you cry out, and you raised your legs for him, letting him pound you into the mattress until the rest of the world stopped existing.

Dean came with a harsh grunt, his mouth buried in the crook of your neck, his lips caressing your skin and leaving a pleasant thrum running through your veins, your hands pulling him close. Neither of you moved, content to lay together, connected, although Dean held his weight off of you.

After a few long moments, he pulled his head up, kissing you again, before withdrawing. You made a noise of loss, only to find yourself gathered up in his strong arms, almost cradled against him.

‘I love you, Y/N,’ he whispered, pressing a hard kiss to your temple, and you smiled, holding onto him tightly. It wasn’t often he allowed himself the words, which made you cherish them all the more.

‘Love you too,’ you returned, letting your eyes fall shut.

Tomorrow there’d be another hunt, another danger, another injury. But in the dark quiet between those times, you and Dean had each other. And you wouldn’t change that for the world.


End file.
